


All The Blood

by vianne78



Series: Danae [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: And they're naked too, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Killing, Kissing, Married Couple, No Smut, Only Monsters Die In My Fics, That Dark Past Is Mentioned, Violence, dealing with the past, monster hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vianne78/pseuds/vianne78
Summary: Happens right after Things That Follow You.The monsters get to pay and her past gets buried, once and for all.





	All The Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Previous chapters were my scrabbles, but in this one Danae just took the hammer from me and ran with it.   
> I'm still a bit surprised how ruthlessly she handled this situation. Happy, too. That monster only got what he deserved.
> 
> Please note that what happened to her in the past still comes up here and there, but, again, it will not be anything graphic.
> 
> Also, there's bound to be plenty of mistakes and I'm sorry!

It was over.   
She was naked, waist deep in the lake, scrubbing her skin vigorously with a wad of soapy rags, watching their clothes burn on the shore. Her hands were shaky again, when she thought about the past few days.   
Vorstag was wading through the water to join her, and the water around his bare thighs was rapidly staining red. There had been so much blood. It had caked in every nook and cranny, crusted on their skin, had soaked through every layer they were wearing, even the smallclothes.   
But it was over. The monster was no more.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After deciding to go after him, she had (for the first time, really) intentionally tried to remember more.   
She had studied maps covering large areas, just in case a name of a village or a river would trigger hidden memories. She had drawn pictures of the house she had been kept in, the layout of it, and the surrounding landscapes in as much detail as possible.   
She’d scribbled down her nightmares with sweaty hands the minute she woke up.  
She’d even tried to draw the people, but quickly had to admit she had absolutely no talent for that.

She had more or less known the spot where she had been caught, crossing the border to Skyrim, and from the more detailed maps had even recognized some landmarks she remembered running across before that.   
Then, based on her pitifully vague directions, she had used her friends and allies in the Dark Brotherhood and Thieves Guild for gathering more information, and they had succeeded beyond all her expectations.   
Of course they had.   
After her friends had been through with their shady and always very efficient investigations, she’d had a name.

She had wanted to leave room for surprising circumstances and improvisation, so she had no detailed plan. Knowing the routes the man used most often had been enough for her singular goal.   
They’d wanted to travel fast, with only the bare necessities and as light armor as possible. The horses had been well rested and eager to go.   
She had, of course, packed her favorite weapons - all of them - and even added some clever poisons into the satchels for good measure. She didn’t much care for poisons, but this time, she had thought the use of them more than appropriate. 

She had seen her husband carefully choose daggers, weighing them in his hands, slicing through the air experimentally.   
She had stopped to lean in the doorway to watch him. A small, somber smile had been playing on her lips. His face had been so grave and determined.   
He ended up on viciously ridged blades with nasty hooks on the tips, made solely to slide into the flesh effortlessly, and to rip the insides apart on the way out.   
Eventually he had raised his head and seen her.   
He had set the blades on the table, and with the determination still in his gaze, came over to her and, taking her face carefully in his hands, kissed her.   
So slowly, so intensely, that the world with all its afflictions had disappeared for a moment. Reluctantly he had let her go, eyes lingering on her face for a moment longer.   
Then they both had returned to the job at hand, hearts just a bit lighter.

She might not have had a detailed plan for the monster, but she had, however, made careful plans in case they didn’t return.   
Now that she had finally had the strength and the means to hunt the monster down, she had been hellbent to see the whole nightmare through, once and for all, even if she and Vorstag somehow would not make it back.   
She’d be damned if that man would go on terrorizing innocents just because she was gone.

She had written letters to some of her previous companions, the people who had come to know her well on their travels, well enough to even know about her past. She had told them about the long overdue revenge, and disclosed all the necessary details they’d need to see it through for her.   
She’d had no doubt they would do it, without hesitation and without mercy.   
Writing the letters had not been easy, let alone amusing, but imagining the wolf brothers of the Companions receiving theirs had made her lip quirk anyway. Those big, gruff men had mushy hearts and would not rest until she and hers would be properly avenged.   
If she made it back, she would pay them a visit, or invite them over.   
It had been too long.

She had given the letters to Lydia and Rayya, her housecarl and steward and dear friends.   
If the worst happened, they would deliver the letters and continue to keep her children safe. All of them would be provided for.   
Writing the instructions and making the plans she had dearly hoped her girls would inherit not only most of her possessions, but also the love and care of all the people she trusted most, and who she now had the honor of calling her big, extended family.

She had tried her best to make it seem like going on just another adventure, but her girls had looked at her with far too knowing eyes.   
It had struck her then that not only could they read the adults in their lives very well, they probably also had their own means of gaining knowledge.   
Her adoptive daughters had pasts of their own, and in certain things it made them both much older than their 12 years. 

Danae had hugged them both fiercely. Vorstag had lifted them up and kissed their cheeks noisily while the girls pretended to yuck and eww.   
Releasing them, however, he had gone down on one knee in front of them, saying something Danae couldn’t quite hear. The three had looked at each other solemnly, before he had stood up and proceeded to check his saddle straps.   
Soon he had paused to return the look he’d felt Danae giving him. 

“I made them a promise I intend to keep. It will remain between me and my daughters.”  
Me and my daughters.   
The daughters she had adopted long before she had even met him, he now called his daughters.   
She had dropped everything she’d been holding and jumped up to wrap her arms around his firm neck.  
“You. I love you so, so -” and the rest had been muffled because she had kissed him, smashing her mouth on his amused lips.

Then they had left.   
They had traveled like shadows, on swift, dark horses and wearing black leather.   
When their horses needed rest, they had taken the opportunity and slept, a few hours at a time, just wrapped in their cloaks.   
They had often eaten on horseback, chewing on the dried meat and fish they had taken with them. Other times they had picked berries and dug up edible roots, when they’d stopped to take care of their steeds and bodily functions. They had not lit any fires or set up proper camps, to avoid attention.

She had remembered the journey being quite a bit longer, but seemingly in no time at all they had been in the right area, standing on top of a small hill, looking down on the path they had chosen.   
It had been ideal for their purposes. Isolated from the busier main road, the path had wound its way through thick bushes and riverbanks, to offer several nice spots for resourceful souls with murder on their minds. 

Vorstag had soon reached to touch her arm, and when she’d turned her attention to him, he’d nodded toward one particular thicket, happily situated next to the briskly flowing river.   
It had offered both plenty of cover and a handy way to get rid of the evidence.   
Oh but it had been perfect. She had glanced at her husband, smiling grimly.   
They had begun to make their way slowly down the hill, to prepare for the oncoming ambush. 

She’d had trouble remembering what he looked like, exactly, recalling vividly only the feeling of threat, the nausea and inevitable pain that had always followed his presence.   
When he had finally appeared, however, she had recognized him immediately. Like it had only been yesterday. Like he had been coming for her again.   
For a brief moment, she had tried to turn invisible, silent terror ripping a hole in her stomach, and a sheen of sweat covering her skin. 

Vorstag’s warm hand on her arm had reminded her where she was, and when she’d been firmly anchored back to the present, terror had been replaced by focus. Vorstag had squeezed her arm briefly, and started moving to the left, soon vanishing silently into the green shadows. He would circle around and attack from behind.   
Danae had made sure her cloak covered her armor - and the hood her telltale white hair -, picked up the basket full of wilting flowers, and stepped on the path of the slowly moving caravan.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here. Let me get your back.” Vorstag rinsed his washcloth and grabbed the soap.   
Danae turned around to offer her back to him and continued to wash her hair.   
She had to pause her hands for a moment when his glided across her skin, just before she felt the rough washcloth begin to clean up whatever mess was there.   
She leaned lightly into the touch, hands tangled into her own hair, and moaned.  
“Oh, sweet Mara, that feels divine.”

She could almost feel Vorstag grin behind her, and it made the corner of her mouth twitch. The rigid tension that had been more or less present for weeks now, began to ebb away from her body and her mind. The gory quest was finished, and here they were, the two of them, together, and still alive.   
Very much alive, judging by the way he had ditched the washcloth and was now using his slick, soapy hands on her skin instead.   
It really was over.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The monster had been sitting on a carriage next to his driver, and two other men had been following behind on horseback. The caravan had approached her slowly, and she had done her best to look like a common flower girl on her way to the market, occasionally bending to pick a flower into the basket. Just before it had reached her, the caravan had stopped. So had she.  
“Well now. What have we here?”   
Good gods, she had remembered his voice. That thoroughly unpleasant, mocking voice.   
She had suppressed a shudder and looked at the man from under her hood.  
“Nobody, milord, just me tryin’ to sell these flowers you see?” She had squeaked, lifting the basket and sounding scared.   
She had not needed to pretend that part.

Right then she had seen him exchange glances full of meaning with the three men he was traveling with. Those looks had proven to her, beyond any doubt, that they had done this kind of thing before. A lot.   
And just like that, she had not been scared anymore.   
The hair on the nape of her neck had still been standing up, and her skin had still been covered in goosebumps, but it had been in anticipation instead of fear. 

“You will come with us now, girl. We’ll take all your flowers.”  
All four men had been staring at her, much the same way a cat might stare at a rodent before attacking. Intensely, with the kind of hunger that could terrify the small prey into immobility.   
Too bad she was not a rodent, not terrified, and not that small anymore, either.   
She had slowly put the basket on the long grass next to her and lifted her hands to remove her hood. She had watched the monster’s face as she had uncovered her own - her rather light, but still clearly redguard skin, her very recognizable silver eyes and long, white hair. The first flicker of uncertainty and shock had been instant. She had seen him trying to put two and two together, brow furrowed, and she had let a horrible, wide smile bare all her teeth. Then he had known.

“You!”  
His face had turned gray, and he had almost broken the rail on the carriage front, so tightly he had grabbed it.   
“You were supposed to be dead! I made sure you were dead! You… you should be dead!”  
The other men had looked between the strange woman standing by the road, and their outraged, babbling leader uneasily. Danae had still smiled.  
“I know you never expected your deeds to come back to bite you, and yet, here I am. I am here to make sure that I am the last thing you see, just like you are the first thing I can remember.” Her tone had been almost friendly, and she had had the satisfaction of seeing dread flash in his eyes.   
Then she had stopped smiling, and Vorstag’s ebony arrow had pierced the driver’s neck from behind. The first spray of blood had rained down.

Vorstag, her lovely, mighty warrior husband had appeared out of the surrounding bushes like an avenging spirit and taken care of the guards. Both of them had been on the ground, writhing in agony in just a few heartbeats - precisely as long as it had taken her to jump up, over the still faintly gurgling driver, and use her momentum to push the vile, still shocked monster off his perch on the carriage. While they had been tumbling down together, Danae had jabbed a small spike into the snarling monster’s skin. 

She had had no desire to fight the man fairly, he’d done nothing to deserve such honor, so she had coated the spike with poison. She had made sure to land on him as heavily as possible, and all the air had left his lungs on contact, buying the small amount of time the poison had needed to kick in.   
He had been lying on his back, Danae half straddling him, and just as she had seen the rage return into his eyes, just as he had been about to lay his hands on her once more, to start fighting back, he had found that he couldn’t.   
He had found he couldn’t move at all. 

Danae had seen the exact moment the realization had sunk in, and she had relished in it.   
She had used her arm to partially block his breathing, the edges of her gauntlet digging into his neck as she had leaned in close.  
“How does it feel?” She asked, feeling the man’s breath come out in shallow pants. “How does it feel to lie there? To be helpless and suffocating and to know something terrible is about to happen to you? And how does it feel knowing there’s not a damn thing you can do about it?”  
The look in his eyes had almost been revenge enough.

They had taken their time with all three.   
Obviously the trio had worked together repeatedly, so she had seen no reason to let the guards off the hook any easier.   
They had bound them, kept them alive for a long while, long enough to find out all their secrets. Long enough to find out about their monstrosities.   
Long enough to hear that these two had been there all that time ago. These two had been the noisy friends on the yard making the ruckus, on the day she had run.   
On the day the old man had, indeed, died by their hands. 

They kept them alive long enough to hear all they could remember about other victims, casualties, graves. About a new house in a new location, with yet another girl.   
Danae had stopped occasionally to write down details and names, so they could make sure families found their lost members, or at least had closure.   
And then they had continued.

The last one alive had been the man himself.   
The other two had finally been allowed to bleed to death, and their hoarse shrieks had stopped. Vorstag had retreated to write copies of her notes by the carriage, to give her some privacy for the final moments.  
Danae had stood in front of her past, covered in it’s blood and vomit and mucus and shreds of skin, looking straight in it’s eyes.   
“We will make sure everyone knows what you and yours have done. Your name will be forever tarnished, your soul cursed, and you will have no power, know no peace.”  
She had not meant to curse him, exactly, but the words had fallen from her tongue with an eerie echo of truth and power. Hearing it, the wreck of a man had coiled back one more time, and it made her smile. 

Seeing the still burning hatred and bitterness in his eyes, she had finally been satisfied, and ready to let go. So she had taken the steel hammer she had chosen for this, lifted it with both hands and swung it with everything she had had left.   
She had chosen the hammer to honor the old man and everything he had taught her, and because with the old man’s hammer she had first dared to imagine killing the monster.   
And just like she had imagined all that time ago, the hammer had landed on his head and the skull had given in with a muffled, wet crack. More bits and blood had landed on her, and it had been over.   
The monster had been no more.

They had gathered the bodies and bound them to the carriage, covering them with bloodsoaked rags. While Vorstag had packed their weapons and cleaned up some of the more obvious mess, Danae had written more copies of the notes, to reveal their identities and the horrifying things they had done, attaching several of them to the tattered clothes and the sides of the carriage to carry the message.   
Then they had sent the big workhorses on their way, to hopefully start a legend so well-known, so gruesome, it would make other monsters think twice before ruining innocent lives. 

That had not been the end, exactly. They would still have to make sure every name and location on the list would be properly taken care of. But right then, they had only thought of getting their horses and returning home.   
So that was what they had done, after trying to rinse at least some of the gunk from their clothes. Riding in dank, blood-crusted armor had been deeply unpleasant, caused chafes and more or less prevented any benefit from sleeping, but they had made it. 

As soon as they reached the familiar shore of lake Ilinalta, right below their home, they had stopped and freed their sweaty horses from every piece of their gear. The exhausted animals had promptly began to make their way to the comfort of their stable, and seeing the horses disappear under the trees, they had exchanged a long look and began to help each other undress. Methodically they piled up all the filthy, ruined clothes and armor they’d been wearing, added the saddles, and proceeded to light them on fire.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She felt much lighter. Like some hidden part of her had been scrubbed clean, just like her skin. Her hair was finally clean and rinsed, silvery tendrils clinging to her shoulders.   
Vorstag was clearly finished with her back.   
He slipped his hands from under her arms and brushed the sides of her breasts lightly.   
They could be seen from anywhere in broad daylight. She didn’t really care. The more dangerous the situations, the more their boiling blood needed the release afterwards.   
She turned around in his arms and made him take a few steps deeper, to hide their bodies under the water. His arms were already waiting when she stopped pushing and hopped up to wrap her legs around his waist. 

His body was wound tight, brandy-colored eyes dark and burning, and she hummed, feeling the heat all the way to her core. She kept her eyes open as she ghosted her lips over his, never really touching, and then bit his lovely, full, firm lower lip.  
He growled and, gripping her ass tightly, took her teasing mouth and kissed her breath away.

“Were you going to come up and assure all of us you are actually alive and safe? Or are you going to just let us believe the blood-spattered horses we just witnessed coming home without riders are a sign that the worst has happened? That is, honor to you, my Thane.”

Lydia’s voice made them snap out of their moment and look to the shore.   
There she stood, bristling, hands on her hips.   
Danae blushed deeply and untangled herself from her husband’s arms.  
“We had to get rid of the clothes and wash up first…but you’re right. I’m sorry. We’ll be right up.”  
Lydia huffed and turned on her heels.  
“We’ll be waiting”, she tossed over her shoulder and stomped away.

They exchanged a sheepish glance. Vorstag took Danae’s hand and caught the discarded washcloths on their way to the shore. Before they stepped away from the water, he stopped, lifted her chin and touched his forehead on hers.   
“Later”, he promised. She nodded.  
“Later.”  
They were back.   
They were home.  
It was over.


End file.
